Artist Of War
by The Drunk Fisherman
Summary: His art is war, his brush is his rifle, and his art strikes fear into the wicked.   -takes place between Modern Warfare 1 and 2 * Language * ...Read and Review
1. Chapter 1

" Long Shot "

SSgt Rick Lawson

26th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU)

1345 hours, March 6th ,2011

Fallujah, Iraq

Believe it or not, sometimes its easier to tell the bad guys from the good guys. When three men drive up in a black Mercedes wearing ski mask's when it's a hundred and two degrees outside…that's called a clue.

"Fucking ski masks" Sergeant Lou Castillo was hunched over his spotting scope cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

"You would think a turban or something" Rick Lawson replied observing the deal through his 10x power scope*.

They were set up atop an shelled apartment complex, with an effective visual range of a thousand yards. For two days they have been observing the local population and radioing in observational intelligence to command.

Just as Castillo keyed up his mike a white truck drove up in the square. Three more men in ski masks exited one carrying a large silver briefcase.

"Roger HQ we have visual on to vehicles, a white truck, no tailgate, and a Black Mercedes car." Castillo took a breath "Approximately six armed males in sight, all wearing ski mask's and shemagh's"

"Copy Sierra Tango one, do you have a shot over"

Castillo stubbed out his cigarette and keyed up again. "Affirmative my shooter has a shot, how do you advise over"

"Hold on" the radio grew silent as the sniper team sat there observing the exchange below them.

"You are clear to engage hostiles"

"Two and scoot HQ, or one and done" Castillo had his eyes pressed to the glass of his spotting scope.

"Negative Sierra Tango one, we are sending an Infantry patrol your way, stay and keep their heads down, Command wants that briefcase".

"Affirmative command engaging" Castillo looker over to Lawson "Keep their heads down…I think he means take their heads off"

Lawson grinned "How many yards Lou"

Castillo had pulled out his M16 spotters rifle, equipped with a 5x power ACOG* sight and a heavy barrel and target action it was the designated marksmen's* weapon of choice.

"three hundred forty yards" Castillo was making adjustments to his own weapon "So your set dead on for five hundred, hold two inches low, or two clicks down"

Lawson adjusted the sight turrets on his scope "any windage I need to account for"

Castillo was looking down his sight "not enough to worry about man"

"Fair enough", three hundred yards were well within his weapons capability. The M40 A3 bolt action sniper rifle was a sub minute of angle gun*, designed to be able hit a mans torso at a thousand yards.

"Shooter ready" Castillo whispered

Lawson had his crosshairs dead center of the man holding the briefcase "Ready, I got ski mask briefcase"

"Excellent, Ill take the follow up shot on his buddy on the left, fire when ready" Castillo placed his finger on the trigger.

Lawson steadily applied pressure to the trigger, breathing smoothly he fired. The man dropped dead where he stood a small corona of blood formed then disappeared.

Castillo fired dropping his target "Dropped like a sack of shit, reengaging!"

Lawson shifted to another man crouched behind the Mercedes, he only had the top half of his torso open. Not an entirely easy shot but not too difficult either. He fired knocking the man on his ass.

Castillo let loose two rounds at a running target one falling behind and kicking up a splash of sand the other hit his thigh. The man fell and scrambled to his feet before Castillo hit him with a quick cleanup shot to the chest.

Gunfire raked their position as the remaining targets were firing wildly with assault rifles and other small arms.

"Do they see us!" Castillo yelled

"Naw their just shooting blind keep at it" Lawson pulled off a hasty shot catching one in the shoulder. But the 308.* caliber round still carried sufficient force to knock him to the ground.

Castillo had pinned down the last man behind a building with his rifle "Command we have neutralized the targets with one pinned down"

"Copy…hold off a little longer"

"Oh shit Lou we got more coming" Lawson looked through his scope insurgents were pouring in through the entrance to the square.

"Shit" Lou grabbed his rifle and keyed up "Command we got a lot of hostiles converging on our position over!"

"Sierra Tango One hold your position, and do not let them take that briefcase over!" A new voice came on the radio "Do you read" the voice had a English accent.

"Roger that's our fucking briefcase!" Castillo threw down the mike and got back on his weapon.

"You boys can do it just hold on, out"

Lawson fired dropping a insurgent making a grab for the briefcase, Castillo had thumbed his selector switch switching to burst and was busy pumping rounds into the group of men trying to set up an RPK

"This is your support, were pinned down by a apartment complex by sniper fire, we've taken one casualty can you see him over. More English accents came through the radio.

"Hold up" Lawson grabbed his rifle and moved it to the opposite side of the house. He looked through his scope. Scanning the complex a lone man stood in the balcony of the fourth floor holding a long barreled rifle of some sorts.

Making quick calculations he estimated he was close to eight hundred yards, he adjusted his turret ten clicks up. A lone flag whipped lazily, so wind was not that heavy. He turned five clicks left. Although at that range he had to adjust for spin drift*. What snipers called Kentucky windage he worked out the formula. Rough but the shot should be close enough to at least scare the sniper off.

Taking a deep breath he held and fired…after a half second the sniper fell over

"Did you fucking see that!" Lawson yelled to his spotter*.

"No I'm busy holding off these assholes get over here and help me!" Castillo was swapping mags adding to a pile already five high by their feet.

"Coming!" Rick moved his rifle back over by his spotter "I just nailed a guy eight hundred yards out"

Castillo looked at him "No shit"

Lawson was loading more bullets into his rifle "Id never shit you man you're my favorite turd"

Gunfire came across the square as five men wearing tactical gear eliminated the remaining hostiles. One of them raised his weapon to signal them..

Lawson and Castillo grabbed their gear and descended to street level. Lawson walked over to the briefcase and grabbed it.

"Hey hand it over mate" A man wearing a skull baklava and Oakley's held out his hand

"Took your sweet time getting here" Castillo walked over.

"Busy city…now the briefcase" The mans squad mates walked over and were standing around them.

"We were told to hold this case" Lawson told him

"Yeah and now we're taking it" The skull faced operator just stood there

Castillo pulled out his pistol "fuck off"

The other operators drew their weapons "Isn't worth it Yank"

Lawson looked around at all the weapons pointed at him "Fuck you" and handed over the case.

"We got the case moving out" the man spoke into his headset. The operators SF guys started walking off. One stayed behind and looked at Rick he was a tall brawny guy with a Mohawk.

"You the sniper that made that shot" he spoke in a Scottish brogue.

"Yeah" Lawson replied still pissed

"Keep your ears open, you may hear from us…stay sharp" and with that the man walked off following his buddies.

"Sierra Tango One, do you have control of the case" Their radio squawked.

"No some fucking SF guys rolled up and took it" Castillo responded

"Roger, evac is on the way stay sharp"

"Affirmative command" Castillo lit a cigarette "What the fuck man, those assholes just roll up and take off, who the fuck were those guys!"

Lawson shrugged "don't know man don't know"

They stood there amidst the wreckage of the firefight that happened merely minutes before waiting for evac.

**Note: Not doing the glossary because I think you guys are idiots…just thought it was a cool feature.**

**10x Scope - standard scout sniper scope, fixed 10x magnification used for mid range deployments.**

**ACOG - mid range tactical sight manufactured by Trijicon.**

**Designated Marksmen - A sharpshooter that is not a sniper that is deployed with infantry squads and carries a more accurate modified M-16.**

**Sub Minute of Angle Gun - Phrase comes from "Minute Of Angle Gun" which means it can shoot within an inch target space at a hundred yards, two inch space within two hundred yards, or ten inch space at a thousand yards etc and so on.**

**So a "Sub Minute Of Angle Gun" can shoot under and inch within a hundred yards, and depending on how far under a minute of angle a 3 inch target space at a thousand yards.**

**Spotter - most think the spotter is the less qualified shooter, but in many cases the spotter is the better shooter making the critical calculations needed for a kill shot.**

**Read and Review - Well That means Read and Review thanks for reading!**

**- T.D.F**


	2. Chapter 2

" Words Of Thunder "

SSgt Rick Lawson

26th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU)

0532 hours, March 8th ,2011

Fallujah, Iraq

_A sniper must speak the words of truth, his book is his rifle, and his words are thunder._

_All those who are wicked enough to be graced by his words will fall forward begging for forgiveness, yet thy will get none._

"God bless you Mr. Marlboro" Sergeant Lou Castillo sat against a stone wall as Infantry ran past him. "Want a smoke Rick?" He offered one to Master Sergeant Rick Lawson who was leaning against the same wall .

"Am I breathing Lou?" Rick knelt down next to him and took the cigarette and held it in his mouth while Lou produced a Zippo from the many pouches adorning his vest. Letting his friend light it he stood back up and took a few drags, then letting it hang in the corner of his mouth while he watched an Infantry squad walking past them.

They where signed on to a Marine "regular" unit as Sniper support. Most of the men were pale faced boys with fear in their eyes. He imagine how Lou and him must look, two crazy eyed grungy men covered in dust and grit, sitting down wearing week old beards and smoking in a combat zone.

A grizzled looking NCO was walking alongside the patrol and when he caught sight of them he walked over. Looking them over he produced a cigarette of his own "Do ya mind" he asked Rick and gestured to his smoke

"Not a problem Sergeant Major" Rick said catching sight of his stripes. He leaned forward taking a drag and lit the Sergeant's cigarette with his own.

"Thank ya kindly" The man took a few puffs then looked over to the patrol "Hope we don't need you boys" He was a tough looking jarhead, head shaved whitewall style, with piercing blue eyes and scarred leather looking skin.

"Same here sir" Lou replied "But we'll be there if you do"

"I know you boys will, see ya when I see ya" The Sergeant Major walked off to rejoin his patrol.

"That's a hardcore motherfucker right there" Lou laughed stubbing out his cigarette and replacing it with another.

"Ooh Fucking Rah" Rick said watching the Sergeant Major picking up a soldier one handed off the ground who had dived there when he heard AK fire.

"Sierra Tango One copy" The radio crackled in his ear.

Using their newly requisitioned headsets Rick keyed up his mike "Roger this is ST One"

"An infantry patrol has engaged a large group of insurgents near your position, they are requesting sniper support copy?"

"Yeah we copy HQ how do you advise over?" Rick dropped his cigarette and ground it beneath his boot.

"We have a Blackhawk on route to your position, you are to provide overhead sniper support and locate targets for their mini-gunners"

"That's a hard copy HQ can they spot red smoke" Rick picked his rifle up that was leaning against the wall.

"Affirmative Sierra Tango One wait for pickup"

"Roger ST One out" Rick keyed up then turned his mike off. He looked over at Lou who was grinning "What are you so happy about?"

"Riding with the flyboys, fucking A man" Lou had banged a clip against his helmet and loaded it into his assault rifle.

Rick laughed and threw a red smoke grenade into an empty lot to his left as a Blackhawk appeared on the horizon. The helicopter zeroed in on the red smoke and he shaded his eyes with his hand as the rotor wash created a brownout of sand and grit flying in all directions.

Walking up hunched over he grabbed an outstretched hand and hopped into the Blackhawk. He turned around to help Lou who was carrying most of their gear up into the chopper.

"Welcome to the cool blue headhunters!" A mustached crew chief leaning over the a mini-gun yelled to them over the rotor.

Rick accepted a bulky headset and pushed his down on his neck to make room for it. He was seated over the open door on the left side of the chopper. He had one leg wedged against the door and the other hung free out the side. Lou sat on the opposite side trying to get the headset around his helmet.

The helicopter took off flying low and fast over the city.

"Guns hot" the pilot gave them a thumbs up and the crew chiefs jumped on their mini-guns.

Rick looked out the side to see a big ass firefight raging below, the marines were pinned down in an open courtyard area and were getting fired upon by insurgents from all angles.

"Spot for RPG's for us!" a crew chief told him in between firing his mini-gun.

Lou had already drained a two of his mags and was busy working on his third. His M-16 was far more capable of spitting out rounds than Rick's M40A1 bolt action rifle.

Propping his rifle up against the side he grabbed one of the crew chiefs M-16'a and was popping off three round bursts at the enemy.

Reloading a familiar tube like weapon appeared out of a window.

"RPG that house middle window!" Rick yelled to the crew chief who immediately blistered the area with the mini-gun.

The man had disappeared and the house was riddled with bullet holes.

Rick had hit a few but the lighter bullet of the M-16 did not have enough stopping power to bring the adrenaline fueled terrorists down.

"I'm out!" Lou yelled over the rotors, to which a crew chief handed him his M-16.

Rick had finished the ammo for his and was using his sidearm to take potshots at running insurgents.

Two men appeared on a rooftop and they both were sporting RPG's, Rick signaled the crew chief who turned to fire.

"click" after firing thousands of rounds they were out of ammo, the crew chief hurried to load the gun but the men fired.

One missed but the other clipped their tail rotor, causing a big bang and almost throwing Rick out of the side of the bird.

They started to spin Rick was sliding out but he caught the bar of a seat and held fast.

"This is super six one, we are going down" The pilots were busy pulling buttons and levers trying slow down the plummeting helicopter.

"holy shiiiiiiiiiiit!" Rick heard his friend yell before the metal met the earth.

Rick opened his eyes to a clear blue sky, he felt like he had been his by a ton of bricks.

Sitting up he looked around. He was sitting in the middle of a large open market.

"Guess I didn't manage to hold on" he thought to himself as he struggled to his feet.

Following the scorched earth he finally laid eyes on the mangled bird. The cockpit was crunched against a low wall and the helicopter sat on its side.

A crew chief lay outside the bird, he was quite dead half of his body sheared off.

Suppressing the urge to gag Rick climbed into the bay area, Smoke still drifted inside.

Lou and the other crew chief lay on tangled inside.

"Lou…Lou" Rick gingerly tried to untangle them.

"Jesus Christ, I've been hit Ricky" Lou opened his eyes, his face was covered in blood.

"Hold on" Rick pulled the dead crew chief off of his friend to see his chest soaked in blood.

Ripping open his vest blood bubbled up out of his chest, sucking chest wound.

"Oh Lou you slow bastard" Rick took a compress out of his pack and pressed it against the largest hole.

"Rick…I,I…I'm sorry" Lou gasped blood leaking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Its all right man, just stay still" Rick pulled a cigarette out and gave it to Lou. Lighting it for him the man seemed visibly to relax.

Noises were heard outside and Rick stood up.

"Don't leave me Rick…please don't leave me" Lou sputtered

Rick upholstered his pistol but stayed by his friends side "I wont leave you man, least not until they ship ya home, million dollar wound baby".

"Don't bullshit me Rick, I'm not going home" Tears began leaking from his friends face.

"I wont ever see my baby girl again man….she just turned three" Lou had dropped the cigarette out of his mouth and tried in vain to pick it up.

Rick put it back in his mouth "Ill tell them man, don't worry ill help em"

Lou had grown pale "You keep them safe…tell them how much I loved them" Lou took a weak drag on his cigarette then was still forever more.

For the first time in what it seemed like forever Rick began to cry, silent tears fell from his face as he mourned the death of his best friend.

Sitting still he finally stifled his sadness he grabbed Lou's pack and rifle then pulled himself out of the sideways wreck. Emerging into the sunlight he was greeted by a few marines and the same sergeant major from before.

"Anyone else alive in there son"

Rick shook his head.

The sergeant major held a rifle outstretched "I think this is yours, almost killed one of my boys when it fell from the sky".

"Thank you sir" Rick accepted the rifle then sat down against the side of the bird.

Raising his rifle skyward he fired a singly shot, and listened as it echoed away skyward. Just as his friends soul.

"May you find eternal happiness"


	3. Chapter 3

" Black Tie Affair "

SSgt Rick Lawson

26th Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU)

0532 hours, March 13th ,2011

Fallujah, Iraq - Fire Support Base Lewis

He had spent a week in the shit, gone for two days without sleep, and lost not only his best friend, but his best spotter. Rick Lawson stood outside his tent holding a satellite phone to his ear. He had just arrived back in base two minutes earlier and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Now he was talking to his wife and her lawyer who was calling to notify him that she was divorcing him. "Let me talk to my wife" He clenched his fist as the lawyer was telling him the terms.

"Mister Lawson she would prefer me to discuss the details", "Let me talk to my fucking wife!" Rick threw the canteen he was drinking out of down to the ground.

"Rick?" A cautious voice answered.

"Baby…what is this all about" Lawson calmed down at her voice.

"I just heard you signed up for another tour with your unit, you said you would rotate to a position back home"

"I cant Jen…you don't understand" Rick gestured at no one in particular.

"Understand what Rick, the fact that you want to be a sniper and live in danger all day. Me sitting home with your son not, knowing whether your alive or dead!" Her voice yelled over the phone.

"Its not that I want to do it Jen"

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because" Rick kicked a plume of sand up with his boot "I'm good at it, that's why"

"I cant do this Rick, your not providing to your family" A neutral tone crept into her voice"

With those words he let loose all the rage that had been building up inside of him "Are you kidding me, I have been married to you for eleven years. And in all that time I have paid the bills and worked my ass off for you and Nick, while you sat home I was getting my ass shot off providing for you. ELEVEN YEARS!, I always took leave when I could to come home, Jesus Christ my fucking partner just died…I almost died and you put this shit on me!".

"Fuck you Rick!" She yelled through the phone

"Let me talk to Nick"

"Goodbye Rick" She said with finality.

"Let me talk to my son!" He screamed

"Mr. Lawson this is her attorney we need to talk about"

"Go to hell" Rick closed the phone and put the antenna down. A few soldiers were standing around staring. "What the hell are you looking at!" he yelled at them, and the started walking.

"God Dammit!" Rick kicked over his supply crate.

Sand swirled around the base as if reminding the infidels that the desert could be quelled but not beaten.

The base was mostly deserted as the night shift was returning from the patrols and the day shift was mostly asleep, some just waking up.

Rick walked to the portable PX* a Hispanic clerk was sipping a coke when Rick walked up.

"Hey boss what can I do for you" The clerk leaned against the counter.

"Give me a six pack" Rick placed his ID on the counter.

"Little early eh boss…you on duty" The clerk pulled out six beers

"Does it look like I'm on duty?" Lawson paid the man and started his walk back to his tent.

Sitting on a foldable chair with an ammo box as his table he cracked open the first beer. Soon enough he had worked his way through the six pack and was holding a bottle of Jack Daniels that he and Lou Castillo had promised to drink the day they rotated back home. "Ill drink it for you Lou" Rick popped the top and fished out a shot glass from his pack.

"Excuse me mate I'm looking for Rick Lawson" A man stood before him dressed in ACU* pants and a tan heat gear long sleeve shirt topped with a tactical vest.

"Look no further" Rick filled his shot glass and downed it.

"How's that" The man looked at him angrily

"You found him partner, look no further, the search is over" Rick laughed and poured himself another shot.

"What's with the whiskey" The man asked

"I'm gonna to drink it friend" Rick abandoned his shot glass and took a long swig out of the bottle.

"Man drinks like that he's gonna die" The operator watched as he drained half a quarter of the bottle.

"When?" Rick asked smiling.

The operator pulled up a chair and sat down next to him "Got another glass?"

"Of course why?" Rick pulled out a shot glass and picked his up and cleaned it off.

"A bloke should never drink alone" The operator waited till Rick poured him a shot and he raised his glass "a toast?"

Rick thought for a second "To scorned women, lost friends, and good alcohol, may it forever pollute our blood"

"Ill drink to that" the man laughed and they downed their shots. "So do you know who I am?"

Rick once again poured another shot for him and the operator "Absolutely, never forget a face…mid thirties blue eyes multiple facial scars, black Mohawk, probably five foot ten, Heckler and Koch* sidearm custom grips and slide. We met a few weeks ago when you and your boys took a briefcase me and my spotter busted our ass for. Now with words I'm not so good…I believe you admired my shot and told me that I might here from you in a bit"

The man looked mildly impressed but covered it quickly "Very good, yes most of it anyway. Would you believe that I am part of a multinational special forces anti terrorist group"

"Possibly the tattoo on you right arm is labeled SF" Rick smiled and poured another shot beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol.

"You like being a smartass, or can you just not turn the sniper off?" The man downed his shot and smiled

"Little bit of both actually" Rick gestured for another

"No I'm good" The man gave Rick his glass. "Anyway…I've seen you shooting talked to the brass, they gave it a go"

"Well hell how's the hours" Rick asked

"Shit" The man answered

"Any desk work"

"No"

"High life expectancy" Rick pressed on

"No" the man answered once again

"I like it sign me up" Rick smiled raising his bottle

"Alright" the man laughed "You can get ten days leave before we call you in"

"No, Ill go now" Rick frowned

"Even better, grab your gear and follow me"

It took him five minutes then he was packed up and ready to go he grabbed his rifle and Castillo's and took it with him.

"You gotta turn those in?" The man asked

"Fuck em" Rick followed the man to the airstrip

"So should I wear something flashy?" Lawson asked as he walked beside the operator

"Strictly Black Tie Affair" The man smiled

Rick laughed and followed him aboard a C-130 cargo ship.

"Who is this?" The man with the skull mask stood by the hatch.

"I'm the asshole whose briefcase you took" Rick walked by him

"Right…where's the other asshole" The man closed the hatch

"He's dead" Rick dropped his gear next to a seat.

"Really…sorry mate" The skull guy walked next to the other operator

"Rick Lawson , Ghost, Ghost , Rick Lawson" He pointed to each of them "And I am Captain McTavish"

"No nickname?" Rick asked

"Don't know me well enough yet" McTavish smiled and walked up to the cockpit.

Rick sat down as the plane started down the runway. Its cargo ten something odd men and ammunition crates strapped down the middle.

Even though he desperately wanted to sleep he couldn't get His wife and kid, and Lou Castillo out of his mind. Lou should have been here with him, instead he was taking his last ride home.

"Mind if I sit down?" The operator called "Ghost" walked over to him.

"Sure…not hanging out with your boys?" Rick asked as the man sat down.

"Not much of a people person, sure you can relate" Ghost took off his sunglasses to reveal pale blue eyes.

"Yeah…I can relate to that" Rick agreed

"Well welcome to Task force one four one Lawson" Ghost held out a hand

"Happy to be here" Rick shook his hand.

Ghost didn't talk much, but then again neither did Rick, they talked a bit then both retreated into their mental shell to meddle over their thoughts.

"My word is thunder" Rick thought examining his rifle "Better enjoy it" because both the word speaker and the wicked listener weren't doing gods will…and they would all receive the big mans word in the end…

**thanks for the review/help, stoneface glad someone likes it...then again this isint a zombie story ha ha ha.**

**Thanks for reading! - T.D.F**


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